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Planetoid
- Joined
- May 5, 2009
"Watch your footwork...."
The insufferable royal prat was no longer bedridden, that much was for sure. He was out in the sunshine, putting the knights through some rigorous training; despite the fact that he had been knocking on death's door a mere two days ago. As the only heir to the throne of Camelot, Arthur was constantly pushing himself to the brink just to prove his worth and merit to his father, Uther, and the kingdom of Camelot itself. He lived and breathed the knight's code, was a model example of chivalry, and the most powerful knight in Camelot.
"Not now!" Arthur snapped, fighting an urge to roll his eyes as the knight he had had been sparring with pulled a Merlin on him and stupidly stole a second or two to glance down at his feet when the prince had just warned him about his footwork mere seconds ago. The younger Pendragon swung his sword and in an instant, had the upper hand. He knocked the knight flat on his back and swung his sword out, stopping mere inches from the man's throat, a blow that would have been fatal if this were a real battle situation. "Don't ever make such a mistake again." Arthur snapped, more than a little annoyed at such a simple blunder coming from one of his highly trained men. Merlin's stupidity must be rubbing off somehow. Still, he was gallant and gracious enough to extend a hand and assist the Knight to stand.
He swiftly gestured for the next challenger to approach. It was early morning and the Prince was training his Knights, just as he did most days. The only difference being that he wasn't supposed to be out straining himself while he was still recovering. Truthfully he did look quite pale and pallid, but Arthur was nothing if not stubborn. One of the few traits he shared in common with his father. He didn't want to lie around in bed and risk his battle instincts getting rusty. He was actually doing quite well, tearing through the knights one by one, and surpassing them as he usually did. There was no outward change in his vigor and power, unless someone who knew the young prince's battle style and tactics well happened to be watching. The only problem was that Arthur had to pause in between battles to catch his breath and sometimes, knights who would not normally last more than thirty seconds in battle with him; were lasting up to a minute. Arthur noticed that his vision was beginning to blur as he strained his still healing body to the very limit. Still, he worked through the pain and spells of dizziness. Nothing, short of death, could ever keep this lad down.
The insufferable royal prat was no longer bedridden, that much was for sure. He was out in the sunshine, putting the knights through some rigorous training; despite the fact that he had been knocking on death's door a mere two days ago. As the only heir to the throne of Camelot, Arthur was constantly pushing himself to the brink just to prove his worth and merit to his father, Uther, and the kingdom of Camelot itself. He lived and breathed the knight's code, was a model example of chivalry, and the most powerful knight in Camelot.
"Not now!" Arthur snapped, fighting an urge to roll his eyes as the knight he had had been sparring with pulled a Merlin on him and stupidly stole a second or two to glance down at his feet when the prince had just warned him about his footwork mere seconds ago. The younger Pendragon swung his sword and in an instant, had the upper hand. He knocked the knight flat on his back and swung his sword out, stopping mere inches from the man's throat, a blow that would have been fatal if this were a real battle situation. "Don't ever make such a mistake again." Arthur snapped, more than a little annoyed at such a simple blunder coming from one of his highly trained men. Merlin's stupidity must be rubbing off somehow. Still, he was gallant and gracious enough to extend a hand and assist the Knight to stand.
He swiftly gestured for the next challenger to approach. It was early morning and the Prince was training his Knights, just as he did most days. The only difference being that he wasn't supposed to be out straining himself while he was still recovering. Truthfully he did look quite pale and pallid, but Arthur was nothing if not stubborn. One of the few traits he shared in common with his father. He didn't want to lie around in bed and risk his battle instincts getting rusty. He was actually doing quite well, tearing through the knights one by one, and surpassing them as he usually did. There was no outward change in his vigor and power, unless someone who knew the young prince's battle style and tactics well happened to be watching. The only problem was that Arthur had to pause in between battles to catch his breath and sometimes, knights who would not normally last more than thirty seconds in battle with him; were lasting up to a minute. Arthur noticed that his vision was beginning to blur as he strained his still healing body to the very limit. Still, he worked through the pain and spells of dizziness. Nothing, short of death, could ever keep this lad down.